


For Last

by mothmanity



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanity/pseuds/mothmanity
Summary: Sylvain happily gathers kisses like a bouquet of flowers to pick apart late at night in his bed, playing children's games of 'He loves me, he loves me not' until he falls asleep without an answer. Presses kisses everywhere on Linhardt's face he can find, earning soft scoffs and almost laughs, his favorite the sweetness of the forehead. Always saved for last.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Linhardt von Hevring
Kudos: 6





	For Last

It started as things normally start in Sylvain's head, a spark of an idea, a longshot. A risk, although the punishment for this particular one couldn't be more lax. At worst, maybe a too long baleful tired stare and a excruciatingly specific insult? He lapped up worse for breakfast. And so he'd leaned against the wall, trapping a wholly unimpressed Linhardt in a corner and propositioned him. The answer was a yawn and a shrug, nothing better to do. An unenthusiastic win.  
  
Or so he thought, until Linhardt fell asleep on the bed before they even did anything. It wasn't too far off from the way he normally held himself, liquid and languid, but the slowed rising of his chest and slight murmurings gave it away. Sylvain sighed loudly and poked Linhardt's cheek, dramatic and disappointed. Nothing. Well. Fine. He leaned down and planted a sloppy kiss to Linhardt's forehead, acting out against someone who would literally never notice. Mature.  
  
He spends the next few months trying to get those sapphire blue eyes to notice him, rake over him in more than just mild curiosity. And slowly, miraculously, they do. Sylvain happily gathers kisses like a bouquet of flowers to pick apart late at night in his bed, playing children's games of 'He loves me, he loves me not' until he falls asleep without an answer. Presses kisses everywhere on Linhardt's face he can find, earning soft scoffs and almost laughs, his favorite the sweetness of the forehead. Always saved for last.  
  
It ends the way everything else always seems to, suddenly and as a personal joke from the Goddess. A good sense of irony, that woman. Wielding the same lance that killed his brother, with the same _hands_ that killed his brother, he bleeds out on a battlefield that he's already won once. A lesson in ego or comedy or the indelible nature of fate, all he can feel is warm and empty, his thoughts sliding out of him like sand.  
  
Healer's hands in his ribcage, swearing and damning him, he smiles because he already knows there's not a Hell that would take him. All that waits is nothing, and that in itself is comforting in a way he thinks maybe it always has been. It's warm, not unpleasant, barely painful. As he drifts, wet lips stained with tears and desperation press to his forehead.  
  
Short and sweet, saved for last. An end.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @mothmanityy if you so desire :)


End file.
